Bitter Springs, Bitter Whiskey
by VanguardAngel
Summary: Lily Walker and Craig Boone spend a moment appreciating the calm before the storm at Bitter Springs. A oneshot experimenting with the characters and setting of Fallout: New Vegas.


Bitter Springs, Bitter Whiskey

A chill swept through the ravaged lands of the Mojave as the bright sun began to sink beyond the rugged landscape. Its scorching golden light intensified to a deep magenta, tingeing everything it touched with an almost surreal veil of mixed crimson and orange. The lonesome cry of a single coyote floated through the quiet of the wasteland, almost mournful of the setting sun.

The remnants of what was once Bitter Springs lay tucked in the crevice of a canyon. Many refugees limped about, trying to find food or medical care. A heavy aura of despair seemed to crush upon the mind of everyone who stepped into the makeshift refugee camp. Even the children refused to play, merely staring at the exhausted, overtaxed NCR soldiers and doctors as they scurried about trying to tend to everyone's needs.

The essence of absolute misery seemed to permeate the area around the camp, its quiet tendrils reaching towards the three odd travelers settling down for the night a few yards away. The trio consisted of two humans—a woman and a man—and a strange, floating spherical robot. The robot, called ED-E by its companions, hovered quietly above the ground, its normal curious nature dampened by the sorrow floating in from Bitter Springs. Its body was adorned with various memorabilia—license plates, old metal signs, and even a few metal decals. While it seemed not up to the task of its usual curious racing about, the antenna atop its frame still flicked around at every little noise—as well as its laser gun.

A well-built young man sat atop a still rolled-up sleeping mat, his hand folded under his chin. He wore a tattered NCR uniform, its advanced age showing with tatters in the fabric and scratches and scorch marks across the actual armor. Even the NCR letters had nearly faded out into nothingness. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark, non-polarized sunglasses, his hair cut down to the roots. An old, yet sturdy rifle was across his back, heavily modded to the point where it could easily pick off the furthest of enemies. All were the marks of an experienced soldier.

The young woman stood at the edge of the small bluff they had decided to make camp on. While her stance seemed relaxed—one leg supporting most of her weight with her hand resting on the raised hip—every muscle in her body seemed to be tense. Her strange hazel eyes scanned every inch of the horizon, paying no mind to the blinding light of the sunset. Her body was clad in dark leather armor, providing enough protection to keep her safe from battery as well as the occasional stray bullet nick without sacrificing her feminine features. Her long orange hair, normally tied in a loose bun, swayed quietly in rhythm of the gentle wind—an attempt at relaxation few have ever seen.

"Boone," the young woman replied, not bothering to look behind her. It wasn't until she heard a soft grunt did she continue. "We don't have to be here if you don't want to."

Boone arched an eyebrow. "Wasn't this your idea, Lily?"  
"Yes, but I'm not going to force anything on you. This is your call."

Boone sighed heavily. He spared a glance over his shoulder, his eyes falling upon the small graveyard on the other side of Bitter Spring's natural rock wall. The memory of smoke and blood began to well up from the deeper recesses of his mind. He could hear the faint screams of doomed Khans, right before they drowned under the roar of bullets. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the gruesome memories.

"Yeah..."

Lily felt a slight twinge of annoyance, but quickly brushed it off. Boone had his reasons—damn good ones, if you asked her. As the last of the setting sun's rays disappeared behind the rocks, she spun on her heels, quickly gathering together the materials necessary to start a campfire and a meal. Just as the first few stars started to flicker into the dark sky, Lily had already managed to put on two slabs of brahmin meat and two yucca fruits. She laughed to herself a little. Every time she and Boone wandered back to Novac, Alice and Dusty always took care of them, and made extra sure they had enough food to last until their next visit. The last time they visited, Lily nearly ended up dragging an entire brahmin's worth of meat.

It wasn't long before the sizzling meat began to generate a mouth-watering scent. With the yucca plants finishing first, Lily sprinkled a sparingly bit of salt on the fruit before tossing one to Boone and taking a bite of her own. The strange yet surprisingly pleasing flavor flooded her mouth, the warmth of the food settling in her stomach, spreading to the rest of her body. Just what she needed to prepare for one of the infamously cold nights in the wasteland. Boone munched on his own grilled fruit in silence, as if indifferent to the food. Lily knew better, and allowed herself a tiny smirk when she saw him lick his lips in anticipation for the steaks. She inwardly rolled her eyes. Boone had no skill at cooking—as did most of her other companions—so Lily's cooking was always appreciated, especially when brahmin steak was involved.

Within minutes, the steaks were finished. And within an even shorter time, they were devoured. The two sat in silence, merely a few feet away from each other. After what seemed like forever, she rummaged through her pack. Boone glanced over at his female companion, curious to her goals. Before he could ask, she pulled out an aged bottle and brandished it towards him.

The bottle was fairly large, its old, clouded glass covered in a coat of what seemed to be a century's worth of dust, dirt, mud, and God knows what else. Lily shook the bottle around a little, allowing Boone to hear its contents—a liquid sloshed against the glass, the higher pitch signifying that it was just over half-full.

"Cass gave me this a while back," Lily explained, expertly popping the cork out of the neck of the bottle. She took a quick swig before she continued. "She says it's Jack Daniel's. Apparently, this was a popular whiskey before the war." She offered it to Boone, who stared at it for a second before taking it.

The bitter taste of ancient whiskey hit his lips, causing him to cough just a little bit in surprise. After a second, his throat began to grow pleasantly numb as the alcohol ran freely down his throat.

"Don't hog it all," Lily laughed a little as she snatched the bottle back. He choked a little on the whiskey, surprised by Lily's sudden "theft". She chugged down the alcohol, passing it back unceremoniously to Boone.

The two passed the night, passing the bottle back and forth as they watched the stars slowly move across the night sky—though Boone wasn't exactly sure if that was normal, or the effects of the booze taking hold. After what seemed like an eternity of being lost in his own thoughts, a sudden weight on his shoulder, making him freeze.

Lily's head rested on the crook of his neck, her breathing even and steady. After the initial shock wore off, he rolled his eyes. Lily never was good with alcohol—especially with whiskey. Boone's eyes narrowed. The last time she had drank; it ended up with a comical display of her trying to get into bed with him. He remembered how red she had gotten when Cass told her the news the next day, and how ill her hangover made her. He scoffed, wondering why she had offered the whiskey. After a second, his eyes rested on the cross-shaped scar across her left eye. _Guess she's got a rough past too..._


End file.
